On the Road with Slavers
by shaeldryn
Summary: They have found a way to be accepted among slavers to gain information. Yet they could not have known what this would force them to do in the end - and that they might even like it... EraMur ONESHOT. Post Eldest. M for Slash/Incest/Lemon


**Disclaimer:** Eragon was written by C. Paolini, so Eragon and Murtagh are his. If I made money from this story, I would not be here.

**Warning:** This is a slash story containing smut. Don't like it? Go away and read something else.

**Author's note: **Finally I have managed to get this little scene done that has been in my head for very long. This was written mainly for the purpose of me having fun :)

Although this story is not directly related to Autumn Bliss, it's kind of based on the canon I've built myself (I think the characters are very much the same) and it could - theoretically - be set a few month after AB. So as a starting point you can just imagine the two laddies with their relationship having developed (so far unseen/unwritten) from where they ended in Autumn Bliss.

Oh, and therefore, of course, the same descriptions of their looks are true. The two look like they do in the movie (which I like even a lot less than the book :-P ), which also means that Eragon has not gone through that elf-transformation thing etc.

* * *

**On the Road with Slavers**

* * *

"What are we going to do about them?" Eragon was still focusing on the three little black dots in the distance. In the bright, midday sun they had easily identified them as slavers a little while ago.

"I don't know," Murtagh replied, furrowing his brows. "We could just let them go, I guess, but then we will never know what they know…" His voice drifted off.

Eragon shifted in his saddle and looked to his brother, whose horse was a bit in front of him. "We can't just let them go. Their knowledge might be worth too much. At least it looks like they have come straight from the lion's den. You're sure that we can't simply ride up to them and just … I don't know… talk to them? I mean, they won't recognize us, right?"

"No, they won't, but still we can't. However, you got me thinking there…" For the first time after a while the dark haired turned to the blond, a mischievous smile on his lips. "What would you be prepared to do to get this information?"

A bit worried by the expression on Murtagh's face, Eragon smiled back uneasily. "Quite a lot, I think. What do you mean?" He imagined Nasuada, happy about their success at learning the news. Galbatorix had been scheming and planning quietly for so long that the Varden were practically blind as to what was going on. It had not exactly been his and Murtagh's mission to go and find out, but doing so would definitely not hurt. If they could only learn where the enemy army was located at the moment… He would certainly comply with any plan. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure yet. See, most slavers have become very wary of strangers nowadays. They are even worse than merchants in that respect. The only people they trust are those of their kind."

"But we have to know!" Eragon set his jaw. "Can't we just we pretend we are slavers as well?"

Murtagh shook his head. "What do _you_ know about slavery, Eragon?"

The younger one shrugged. "Not much, I guess. It is against everything the Varden stand for, but of course still exists in the empire. As far as I know, every noble family within its borders owns slaves, as do most of the other wealthier citizens. And slaves… they are subjects of their masters, property, they have no rights, have to do whatever they are told. In short, they are less than a normal, free human being."

Murtagh only nodded. He stared at the strangers in the distance and thought really hard. Would Eragon be able and willing to pull it off? "Have you ever got to know a slave or his or her master?" He studied Eragon closely. A slight smile stole upon his lips when he remembered the last night. The blond was his brother, sure, but also so much more. Love, lover, friend, everything. It was hard to imagine the days before they had finally come to this understanding.

"No, of course not. It's one of the reasons we're fighting the king, after all." Eragon recognized the look in the hazel eyes and could not help blushing slightly. Damn – how did Murtagh manage to have so much control over him with just one glance?

"But_ I_ know what it is like." Murtagh was serious again. "I grew up a master. I know the way they behave. We could try to deceive them, you know."

"Oh." Eragon face clouded for a moment until comprehension was dawning on him. "You mean, you as a slave owner and I as your… property?" He could not help a wide grin spreading. "Now, that would be an adventure a bit different from usual. What do I have to do?"

Murtagh snorted. "I was not _that_ serious, to be honest. I think it would be a rather unpleasant meeting, and I really do not like treating you as a slave."

"It can't be that bad." Eragon urged his horse forward until he was right next to Murtagh. "Bind my hands, take my horse's reins, and act the dark, unfriendly guy that you really are and we will be fine." He smiled brightly, belying his words.

"Sure, that plan is maybe good in theory, but not in practice." Murtagh leaned forward and kissed Eragon briefly. "You're way too dear to me to do this, you know that?"

Eragon had closed his eyes, savouring the kiss, and did not open them when he started to talk. "It cannot be that awful, I think. Unless, of course, you are planning to beat me up or something…" With this he opened his eyes and raised his brows, silently daring his brother to confirm that statement.

Murtagh refrained and looked down on his gloved hands. "It would not be so much of an adventure. We would have to be believable, and that means that I wouldn't be friendly towards you. Quite the opposite. Truth is that you could think that I am a really obnoxious and mean person, and I do not want you to think that." He began to pet his horse's mane absentmindedly.

Eragon reached over and took hold of the nervous hand. "No, I will not. I think I know you better than any other person does, and you are none of that. I know that those slavers might have information that we need urgently, so I think we should give it a try. I promise you that whatever you do, I will not hold it against you." Usually he did not mind his brother looking out for him, but now he realized that he did not want to be treated like a child either.

Murtagh stared at him for a minute. Then he sighed and looked ahead. "The chance is too good to let it go by, true. Are you aware that you will have to obey me – _completely?_"

"Yes, of course."

"It might not be easy."

"I know."

"Fine." Murtagh sighed. "Do not yell at me tomorrow, alright?"

"I will not, rest assured. As I said, I know you, and I will be able to appreciate your acting as well." Eragon held both of his hands in front of Murtagh and swayed them to get his attention. "Now, will you bind my hands?" He could not stop another small smile forming on his lips. This _was _going to be an adventure.

Murtagh grinned back. "How much sense would it make to bind someone's hands in front of his body? Take them behind your back!" His grin turned evil. "And don't say that I did not warn you." He grabbed his brother's wrists once they were in position and wrapped a rope around them.

"Hey," Eragon laughed, "pretence, idiot, you don't have to actually cut off the blood."

"Call me that again and I will make it even tighter," Murtagh smirked. "And it _is_, in fact, only pretence, you don not want me to go all the way with this…" He could not quite avoid the kick aimed at him. "And now, behave. As a real slaver or at least slave owner my goal is to get you docile and submissive for a good sale price and a satisfied later owner, and that means that I will have to punish any misbehaviour."

Eragon settled back and rubbed his wrists to ease the cutting rope. "Well, in order for you to behave as a real slaver we will have to catch up with them first. And don't worry, I will behave." He spurred his horse forward, forcing Murtagh to follow in a swift canter.

* * *

The oldest of the three men looked back on hearing the hoofbeat, swiftly followed by two younger ones. They turned their horses and took a defensive stance. Their postures relaxed somewhat, though, when they saw the young, noble-clad man leading the horse of an even younger, pretty blond boy, who was obviously bound and rather sulky looking.

The grey-haired leader urged his horse a step in the direction of the newcomers and raised his hand in a neutral salutation. "The name is Bartas and these are my sons, Tark and Mordis. State your business." His voice was calm but the tone rather unfriendly.

Murtagh had adopted an emotionless mask and scrutinized the two younger men before turning to the older man opposing him. If this should somehow result in a fight – and he would fight if any harm was coming Eragon's way – he knew he would win. He was better armed and most certainly better trained, as there was no one in Alagaësia who could match his skill with a sword. He watched the men carefully, observing the typical black and dark brown clothes of slavers, noting that they were not of the best quality. He delivered his story. "I am Dumas, and I am travelling to my father's estate in Bullridge." He tried to make his tone conversational, though keeping the slight Uru'baen accent he had adopted. "I have seen you ride in the distance and figured we could team up – if you are heading for the same direction, that is."

"Why would we want to do that?" one of the younger men asked. He was small, broad-shouldered and had a knobbly nose. "We have been travelling just fine so far – what do we want with you?"

"We do not need company, or else we would be with more people already," the second younger man jumped in. He also had a rather flamboyant nose and thinning, barely-there hair.

Bartas raised a hand to silence them. "Explain your intentions further and give us a good reason why we should want you with us, and then I will consider my decision." He eyed Murtagh suspiciously from head to toe, taking in the expensive clothes and valuable weapons, before his gaze came to rest upon Eragon.

"I have come right from our great capital and there bought this slave…" Murtagh included his brother with a gesture, "as a gift to my beloved father. As to why you would want to travel with me? Excuse my saying so but I am better armed than you are, and I am a warrior. These are unruly times and you might come to appreciate my presence."

The man's features turned anxious right away. "Do you have any news as to possible Varden attacks?"

Murtagh shook his head. "No, I have not. But not one single moment goes by these days where I do not look over my shoulder, worried that a band of rebels might attack. Thus, to be honest, I would not mind some company for once as well."

Somewhat appeased by this, the old man turned to his sons, both focued on Eragon and suddenly all too willing to agree to the arrangement.

Murtagh did not like their looks and could tell that his brother – although he had his eyes cast down, behaving just as Murtagh had instructed him to – felt them, too. But they had taken the first obstacle successfully and now they had to put up with it.

The grey-haired man urged his horse to get going and Murtagh stayed at his side. He knew the sons would not make good conversation and besides, even as the person he pretended to be at the moment, he could not help but think that they were far below him. He did, however, take care that he held the rein of Eragon's horse as close as possible, so that Eragon would not have to put up with the men, either, and also so that he would be able to hear.

* * *

The light was fading rapidly and Eragon was still feeling the stares of the two ugly men in his back. He was sure they had not left him once the whole afternoon and he did not like it at all. Additionally, the ropes were really hurting him by now and he was convinced that it would have been sufficient for the disguise if they had been bound more loosely. But after all, it was worth it: Murtagh had slowly and carefully got the leader of the slavers to talk about all that he had seen in Uru'baen and on the days before. It turned out that the man was rather observant and bit by bit he had told Murtagh a great deal of things important to the Riders.

"The glade over there?" Murtagh pointed with his right and looked at Bartas questioningly. "I do not think we will find a better resting place before it gets dark."

"True, true." The man nodded. By now he had warmed up to the young, dark-haired male at his side and willingly accepted the suggestion. "Tark, Mordis, we will rest here!" he called to his sons. "Get us some firewood and see to the horses!"

Rather unwillingly, mostly because the stranger was younger and did not really do anything, the two men turned to their assigned tasks, producing a merrily blazing fire in no time.

Murtagh had taken hold of Eragon's arm once the blond had dismounted and led him over to Bartas, where he told him to sit down. Eragon did so a bit awkwardly, at the same time unsuccessfully fighting his stomach which was screaming for food.

The grey-haired laughed quietly and put a finger under Eragon's chin to lift his head. He looked the young man over and whistled approvingly. "A fine thing you got here, sir. We are actually on the way to the north to find and buy or… _get_," he shot Murtagh a quick glance, "something just like that – blond, blue eyed, nice body, attractive. I wonder how we could have missed him in Uru'baen… He must have been rather expensive, I take it?"

Murtagh had not intended to answer, but seeing Eragon's barely suppressed grumpy reactions to the man's words, he could not help a true little smile turning his face from stone to handsomeness for a moment. "Yes, he was not cheap. But then again, he is a gift, for a special person on a special occasion. I saw it fit to spend some money on him."

The sons were joining them at this point, and all except the impassive Eragon began to unpack what food they carried. They ate the bread, cheese, and dried meat mannerly, except the one with the thinning hair, Mordis, who devoured it.

"So, he is intended for your father?" Tark suddenly addressed Murtagh, who only nodded. "Does he want him for the obvious?" The light blue eyes were greedy.

Murtagh swallowed the cheese he was chewing, buying some time. "Well, he does not know yet what I have for him, but yes." He eyed Eragon for a second, seeing that he was relaxed albeit obviously hungry. "I bought this fellow as a pleasure slave, so much is true." Eragon brother tensed slightly.

Bartas nodded his head approvingly. "You must really like your father."

Murtagh needed all his will power to produce a friendly little smile and voice his agreement to that.

Now Mordis was paying close attention, too. "Is he a virgin?"

Murtagh felt his brother growing more and more uncomfortable, but knew he had to go on and manage this somehow. "No… He's been ridden in. I figured it might save us some trouble."

Mordis edged a bit closer and was suddenly all friendly, though it did not need trained judges of character as both Eragon and Murtagh were to see how fake it was. "Well, sir. You seem to be a really nice fellow, I didn't even think that on first glance. We really appreciate that you're travelling with us. So, maybe… see, it's been a really long time since my brother or I have seen, let alone have had, such a beautiful one." At this the brother nodded vigorously. "And so, sir, I was just thinking that maybe, you know, as a little 'thank you' because of our company, might you not grant him to us for a little while? As he's not a virgin, it doesn't even matter, right?" His upper lip was drawn back in a longing smile, baring yellow teeth.

Murtagh had frozen and knew that Eragon had done likewise. He was quite angry at himself for not thinking the virgin statement through. And that guy. How dare he? Then again, Murtagh knew it was custom. He drew himself up a little to muster as much dignity and authority as he could in a sitting position. If the fight was to start now, he was ready. "I'm not of the sharing kind." His voice was icy.

Mordis seemed to feel the threat right away and backed up a little, yet Tark was undisturbed. "That's not fair!" he exclaimed. "We'll not bruise him or anything, he will look just as fine when you get home, we-"

"Did you not hear me?" Murtagh cut in. Even two of the horses looked up now, surprised at the predator-like sound that had just come from a human.

"Easy, my young friend." Bartas tried to calm the situation and put a hand lightly on Murtagh's arm, but thinking better off it right away when he felt the tension. "Tark, Mordis, why don't you go and get some more wood?" Only after the younger men had angrily left the fire did he talk to Murtagh again. "You must excuse my sons, we've been having some rough days. They did not mean to threaten you. But you must not be so harsh – after all, it is custom…."

"Not with me," Murtagh replied shortly. He watched the men scramble through the brush, returning a while later, but only putting their wood next to the fire and not themselves. When they had found spots to sit a bit away, quietly talking amongst each other, Murtagh began to relax again. All of a sudden he remembered that his brother had not eaten yet and so he turned his attention to the task at hand.

Eragon gave Murtagh a defiant look when no one else was watching. He was not serious, was he? With a slight smirk Murtagh was holding out a small piece of food for him, apparently planning on feeding him. Eragon had just overcome the shock of the two men's intentions and now this? It was humiliating. But he was too hungry to care for long. Smiling in return he leaned forward to take it – and to try and bite Murtagh really hard in the fingers. Unfortunately, the other got away unharmed.

"Tss," Bartas scolded, "you should not let him get away with that!"

Murtagh shrugged his shoulders. "I leave that to my father to deal with. The deer always tastes better if you have hunted it yourself, right?" Undisturbed by his brother's mood he continued feeding him. For some strange reason he was enjoying this – he thought that, if it had not been for the company they were in, it would have been extremely sexual. Now he simply tried to memorize it. It was fun to tease Eragon by holding the food always a bit farther away from his mouth so that he had to twist to get it. Regrettably, the blond had eaten up the little ration planned for him far too quickly, no matter how small Murtagh made the bites. So after a while he ignored him again, turning to Bartas once more. It did not feel good, but he had to play his part.

* * *

Murtagh was binding his brother's hands in front of the younger man in order for him to be able to sleep somewhat comfortably. They were exchanging a secret smile when Tark got up from the sleeping position he had already been in. Half-sitting, he addressed Murtagh one last time, calling over to him, ignoring his father. "You do know that you _have_ to use him tonight, right? Otherwise it's a waste that my brother and I won't accept."

Murtagh stiffened and saw Eragon form several soundless 'no' with his lips. Yet he knew it would not be as easy as that. Those guys wanted trouble, and Eragon would be really mad at him if he killed them… So he thought that he really had no choice. "Go to sleep, I know better than to waste a night."

Eragon's eyes widened noticeably at this and he shook his head frantically. "You can't," he hissed. This could not be happening!

Murtagh dragged him down on his cloak and kissed him – harshly and unloving, very different from what Eragon was used to. Then he felt the older one's breath next to his ear.

"You said you would go along…" Murtagh whispered.

"Not with this," Eragon replied angrily.

"Well, technically, you did not specify that, did you?" The older one was amused.

"No, but-"

"Listen. If I don't do this they'll start a fight. Do you want me to kill them?"

This silenced Eragon right away. "But…I can't, Murtagh. I can't have them watch."

"Shhh," Murtagh nibbled at his ear for a moment. With one hand he grabbed the rough blanket that lay close-by and covered both of them. "Eragon, do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

Murtagh moved his head back a little until they could see each other's faces in the dying firelight, blue eyes worried, hazel ones trying to radiate calm. "I love you, so please stop thinking that I'll do you harm."

Eragon squirmed a little. "I don't think that you'll do me harm, it's just that… well, I love you, too, and you know that, but even so, it will be embarrassing and-" He was cut short by Murtagh's lips on his mouth, now again the ones he knew so well. Caring, teasing, loving, getting him to open up within seconds. Calling upon all his will Eragon tried to tense his muscles and push Murtagh away, but it was impossible. Not so much because the other was holding him down, but more a betrayal of his own body.

Murtagh was well aware of this and began to really warm up to the situation. He moved his head a little and his mouth trailed down Eragon's neck, coming to rest on the collar bone that was exposed by the neckline of his brother's shirt.

"Don't… make me… enjoy… this," Eragon managed to say through clenched teeth.

"Behave, slave!" Murtagh chuckled, running a hand through the blond hair affectionately. He took the bound hands and pulled them over Eragon's head, pinning them down effortlessly with one hand.

"And above all, do not remind me that... I agreed to obey... in the first place." Eragon grimaced but felt himself half smiling. Great! Murtagh was about to take him. In front of people. Very unfriendly people. He was bound and helpless. And his body wanted to smile?

Murtagh had no intention to delay this much. He knew that more than one pair of eyes was watching, and though he had to confess that the thrill was rather a turn-on, he did not want to cause Eragon more… he did not exactly know what he did not want to cause him, because the latter seemed to be enjoying himself at the moment. Murtagh let go of the hands – which stayed miraculously in place, causing him to look at his brother's face once again, noticing surrender and a little grin. He then moved down the younger one's body a bit, until his hands could reach easily for the well familiar crotch. He chuckled quietly and forgot all his worries about Eragon in an instant. Someone besides himself liked the unusual circumstances as well.

Eragon felt Murtagh pull down both their pants quickly and then there was the calloused, sure hand of the older one, closing about his arousal and beginning to move along its length not too gently. He bit his lip forcefully to stay quiet and closed his eyes. Murtagh's plan on getting this over with quickly was obvious, but he could not help but relish the moment. Far too soon the hand was gone again, yet he soon could feel the older one's cock against his own when its owner bent down and brought their lips together once more.

Murtagh could tell they were both more than ready. What was it about this place? He did not know. He enjoyed some more of Eragon's soft lips and then questioned him with one look. The blond only nodded. Murtagh reached for the small flask of oil he always carried as lubricant these days. On opening it and spreading its content on his fingers he wondered if it could get any odder. He massaged Eragon's opening gently and soon inserted the first digit. Just whom would they meet on the road in the future and to what would that lead? He shook his head, realizing that he should pay attention to the things at hand.

One… Two… Three. Eragon felt his breath speeding up. Murtagh always gave him the real thing after the third finger. Unless, of course, when they were bathing and… No, he told himself, do not dream, this is far too good. And sure enough he felt Murtagh shift and then the fingers were replaced by something bigger… better.

Murtagh leaned down and kissed Eragon hungrily. The moment their tongues met he thrust forward, carefully, but urgently, and he knew that it did not hurt the other anymore. Unprepared as to what the special circumstances did to his iron self-control, Murtagh groaned rather loudly and then blushed crimson, very glad for the dark night surrounding them. They were not alone, for fate's sake.

Eragon arched his back, welcoming the older one, meeting the intensifying thrusts with his whole body. Part of his mind told him he was crazy, he was being watched, this was embarrassing, humiliating. But all was irrelevant at the moment. There was only him and Murtagh and this unbelievable solidness filling him, pushing him, hitting him just right. He was losing control and was already close. Another thrust, another explosion of pleasure running through his body, Gods!

Suddenly Murtagh felt Eragon's body clench around him, which kicked him over the edge after a few more moments. Eyes locked, they slowed their rhythm until all was spent.

A while later they lay nestled together, waiting for their pulses to return to normal. Murtagh was already drifting away to sleep when Eragon nudged him. "What?" he asked groggily.

"We can _not_ tell anyone! Ever!" Eragon was very serious.

"Of course not," Murtagh yawned, "now behave and go to sleep."

* * *

Eragon woke to an already late morning and sat up abruptly. At first he noticed that his hands were unbound and, once his memory kicked in fully, he realized that there was _only_ Murtagh sitting next to the cold fire. There was no sign of Bartas and his sons.

"Huh? Where are they?" And just how long had he slept?

Murtagh walked over to him and sat down by his side. "Gone… We kind of agreed this morning that travelling together would not be such a good idea after all."

Eragon could not refrain from swiftly kissing the pale cheek. "Good. I think it's better that way…"

"Most definitely." Murtagh laughed quietly. "You know why? Because even if you try to make no noise at all you're still very audible…"

"Hey!" Eragon punched Murtagh's shoulder not too gently. "This was all messed up anyway. You should have told me!" To his frustration he did not sound as angry as he wanted, and he knew Murtagh heard it, too.

"I_ have_ told you!" Murtagh played along willingly.

"Not about this!"

"How could I? It's not like we knew... But I had said that it would not be too easy."

Eragon thought for a moment. "Fine, you're right," he admitted evntually and chuckled on seeing Murtagh surprised. "And of course, you've also given me that little explanation last night, but…"

"But?" Murtagh was bewildered.

In one swift movement Eragon had risen, pushed his brother down and was now on top, straddling the older one. "But," he explained with a wide grin, "you had _never_, not once, said anything about the fact that you like this kind of thing. You're silly, stupid, mean and-" The rest was cut off by a fit of laughter from the person beneath him. After a short moment of resistance Eragon joined in. After all, he was the wrong person to accuse Murtagh of liking it.


End file.
